GND: A Fixation
by CampionSayn
Summary: A selection of one-shots and drabbles based off of the awesome comics by Pika la Cynique and others over at deviantArt. Selection includes obvious pairings, crack pairings, and crack galore, along with other stuff.
1. Galadriel Comes to Visit

Title: GND: A Fixation  
>Summary: A selection of one-shots and drabbles based off of the awesome comics by Pika la Cynique and others over at deviantArt. Selection includes obvious pairings, crack pairings, and crack galore, along with other stuff.<br>Warnings: Fluffy and sappy friendship seen between all people of the series, stalking by, well, the obvious suspects and, be warned, the times will flux in these one-shots very easily. Minor swearing, but little more. Oh, and use of illegal substances.  
>Disclaimer: I could not begin to explain just how many of these series and franchises I make not a cent off of.<br>Dedication: To _AsheRhyder_, _**Pika la Cynique**_, **HeroesDaughter**and all those responsible for the Building Block World that has captured the hearts and minds of the people, not for profit, but for the sake of pleasure and gratitude to the creators of Labyrinth, PotO, POTC, Les Mis, and all the others.

….Also, I just discovered _**Pika la Cynique's**_ Leather Series. God knew that couldn't go untouched, right?

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><p><em>-:-<br>You being a cop makes you The Man! Which makes me the woman—and I have no interest in that, besides occasionally wearing the underwear, which as we discussed is strictly a comfort thing.  
>-Homer Simpson.<em>

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><p><strong>Galadriel Comes To Visit-:-<strong>

KNOCK, KNOCK, "Jareth!" KNOCK, KNOCK, "Erik!" KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, "Somebody!"

The door to the bathroom opened with something of an atomic boom, hot air that had long turned into warm steam cascading outwards into the apartment and causing a very dramatic effect as Jareth tied the knot around his new—and favorite, by far—blue terrycloth robe, shower cap still clinging to his head to keep his hair dry before he was to get onto that massive chore, and a face that would put Medusa to shame decorating his face as his feet—trailing massive amounts of water, by the way—slapped against the floor. Whoever was on the other side of the door had best be prepared for a curse that would last the rest of their (possibly now shortened) life, unless this interruption was for a VERY GOOD reason.

His ungloved—and it was indeed ungloved and much paler in contrast to the rest of his body; a proverbial white patched "boot" if he were a cat—hand clutched at the doorknob just as another pair of knocks rounded upon it and with might that would have broken it, wrenched it open to find…Legolas. Oh, goody.

"Oh, thank all," the slightly twitching wood elf sighed, ignoring the look Jareth was sporting in favor of having to audacity to actually race past the Goblin King and making Jareth shut the door with a slam.

"What the hell, Legolas?" Jareth shrieked indignantly as the elf—after locking the door—proceeded to grab hold of Jareth and Erik's furniture and press the two couches and the coffee table against the only entry into the apartment not including the windows. And he was still shaking like a…blonde, narrating maraca. Jareth would repeat: "What the Hell?"

The elf laughed in a hysterical manner, adding some of the chairs from the kitchen against the door before turning to the Goblin King with his hands clutched together and dropped to his knees, tone pathetic enough, and despairing enough, to make Jareth lean away from him a little and clutch the neck of his robe much tighter.

"Please, please, please, Goblin King, I implore you to grant me a favor for this day or all is lost and I might as well throw myself into the bowls of Mount Doom!"

"…Er, what is it?"

The elf's shaking got worse and he brought his hands up to grasp at the two little braids woven into his hair, pulling on them like on would a robe. It actually made Jareth flinch a little himself.

"Lady Galadriel has come to visit me and put on display her new wardrobe. She has discovered in the last few months while I have been away this evil, evil store that, had I the authority or, nay, the gall of even one such as my flat mate, would have sundered to the ground by gasoline and a lit match… and she bought me some clothing from this evil, evil place as well. I do not wish to deny her the wish of seeing me in it, but I would also rather just slit my own wrists than ever actually put this "clothing" on. As such, to as not invoke her displeasured feelings, I ask for sanctuary until she gives up looking for me and leaves. Will you grant this request, oh wise leader of the Underground?"

Aside from the massive words of praise lavished on him at the end of…whatever that was…there wasn't much that Jareth could understand.

A creaking of wood was heard from behind that was a sharp contrast to the still reigning sound of the running water in the shower.

Turning around slightly, Jareth found Erik in the hallway entrance giving both of the blondes a haggard, angry expression to match his witnessing of their furniture piled against the door like the barricade Javert often tried to explain to them when recollecting his history.

The Goblin King waved one hand around to stop the most probable shrieking match that he and Erik often engaged in when Jareth did these sorts of things, "Wait, wait! This wasn't my fault! Legolas just rushed in and did this and started begging for safe refuge from his mother!"

Oh. Now it made sense.

Erik put his angry expression away and leaned forward on one leg to look around Jareth and at the shaking wreck on their apartment floor, "His mother terrifies the elf?"

"Nay, the Lady Galadriel is not really my mother, she's just the highest ruling elf of all of us—okay, fine, whatever," Legolas ground out, putting aside his formal speech as he often did when faced with intimidating individuals of the building, sounding a bit like a British film star, "If it's easier for you to call the Lady my mother, then so be it! But, will you please, please, please, hide me until she is away from the area, along with that black nightmare material she's trying to get on me?"

"Black material?" Erik asked, moving to pull the one of the couches away from the door and back into its proper place, much to the wood elf's displeasure.

Legolas shook much more before reiterating, "Leather from a punk rock store. She's wearing pants, of all the horrible things! With metal studs and specialized stitching! With all that makeup she put on as well she might as well be Jareth's mother!"

With that said, all of the men in the room shook like it was twenty below zero and not a source of warmth in sight. What a revolting thought…

Jareth suppressed more wracking of his nerves and coughed once before curiosity got the better of his words, "What is wrong with you putting on leather? It's not as if that would be so bad, considering all anyone in the building's ever seen you wear is your Lord of the Rings and the Battle of Helm's Deep attire of the flattering colors of brown and green. Nanny Ogg would probably jump your bones at the sight of you in black."

Erik had the expected result of making a revolted face at such a thought, moving the other sofa and the coffee table back into their proper positions before moving back into the bathroom to turn off the running water. Good lord, was he the only one that thought about the heating and water bills?

Legolas twiddled his thumbs before answering, looking everywhere else but at the sopping wet Goblin King, "I, er, well…that is to say…It's not that I have a problem with all leather products, I do have some of my own—"

"Really?" Erik chirped from the kitchen, moving the chairs back in with not a little more trouble than it took Legolas to move them out, "You should show Sweeney, maybe he'll stop threatening you."

"Why would he—never mind. Anyway, not all leather disgusts me. It's just…I saw what was in the bags she brought with her and the product is at least a size or two too small. It would make me look like…"

"A cheep alleyway whore?"

"A biker's girlfriend?"

"The Goblin King?"

"Oi!"

There was a short set of prim, proper knocks on the door, that set the impending feud to stop before it began. Another set started and Legolas simply ran to the closest room in the hall, i.e. Erik's room.

Once both of the dark figures of dreamland and nightmare, even, heard the door to that room shut, Erik fitted the last chair against the table in the kitchen and opened the door.

Finding, oddly though it was, both Christine and Sarah standing before the door, each holding a stylized bag with the boutique name of _**Exit to Eden **_printed in the center. Christine looked mildly disturbed and was holding the her bag at arm's length and Sarah pulled the both of them out of the hall and shut the door, ignoring the giddy look Jareth was giving her in a bath robe and shower cap.

"Ladies," the Goblin King greeted, poofing—much to Erik's eternal annoyance as glitter fluttered about—into his usual regalia of tight pants and fluffy white shirt, hair perfect, "To what do we owe the honor?"

Sarah spoke up first, dropping her bag onto the coffee table, same as Christine, both eyeing the bags, "Um, we asked Gip to confirm and he said Legolas was in here?"

"Oh," Jareth sulked readily at the mention of the elf, Erik bending at the waist to look inside the bags, the side of his face without a mask scrunching in a way that was tantamount to supreme curiosity at what was in the packaging, "He's hiding out in Erik's room from some high lady of the elvish or whatever."

"Lady Galadriel," both girls corrected, Christine going to get the elf out of Erik's room before he landed in a death trap of something or other.

"Yes, her," Erik chirped, reaching both arms into the bag Sarah had carried, only to pull out…well, he wasn't exactly sure. They looked like black leather pants, but where the feet came out there was something like the material that made up maternity wear with five holes in it; studs decorated every third inch of the black and the area where the crotch was to go there was a, well, basically a cup like in the Baseball Leagues, sewn into inside. Ew.

"You do not want to see what's in the other bag," Sarah warned the Opera Ghost, following the way Christine had went in case Legolas was clutching at something to keep away from the woman who was something like a million years old that they had just met and had been just as, if not more, freaked out by.

Erik put the pant thing back into the bag and, despite Sarah's warning that had probably been so warmly directed to both of them, Jareth took the chance that his curiosity would be rewarded and stuck his hand into the other bag. After some fishing around, he pulled out the top.

It was also black leather, but, unlike the pants, it had no studs attached. Rather, it was cut up, with little latches and hooks sticking and hanging out every which way, and looked like it was missing the area that was to cover the pectorals. And it looked small enough to fit a woman.

The Goblin King dropped the clothing back into the bag and both he and Erik echoed in perfect unison the word, "_Ewwwwww_….."


	2. The Use of Color

I have just read an entire book on fairy lore and let me tell you it gave me the worst headache of my life…so far.

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><p><em>-:-<br>It's called Color Hearing. Perhaps one in a thousand has that.  
>-Vladimir Nabokov.<em>

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><p><strong>The Use of Color-:-<strong>

Yellow blotting paper. That's the first thing Erik sees when he wakes up with—so far—the worst headache he has ever had. Or is it a hangover?

Red cloth infused with black silk. It is a very strange thing to wake up, not knowing where you are or how you got there. Even more-so when you're the Goblin King and are really supposed to be immune to such humanistic things as alcohol intoxication and feeling pain from something so simply as light streaming in through a window that Jareth knows for a fact is on the wrong side of the room as his window is further to the right.

Two fingers touch. At first, each of the men think that the feeling of something warm pressed against their hand might turn out to give them a decidedly wonderful morning to make up for the headache pounding along the linings of their eyes, the neurons that make up their brains and all the muscles they are aware of as of yet.

Not the case.

Seventeen steps for each staircase. A thick door with a sign "Stalking Isn't Sexy" eternally taped to the wood. Two little ladies and a small goblin look up at the ceiling at a loud scream that seems to echo.

Black and brown chocolate. The goblin Gip blinked once and went back to chewing on the M&Ms Lady Sarah gave him for putting sleeping pills in Lord Jareth and the O.G.'s beers last night while they were arguing with Javert and James over the football game playing live in Atlantic city in their apartment.

A sort of rosy pink and ultra violet glance. Christine and Sarah's hands met swiftly and with untapped happiness at their sort of spur of the moment's plan gaining them something to smile about before they had to take a test later that morning.


End file.
